


Mike Hanlon

by xxxbuffyxxx



Series: The Death of the Losers Club [3]
Category: IT - Stephen King
Genre: Animal Death, Blood, Fear, Gun Violence, Multi, Pennywise (IT) Being an Asshole, Shooting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-12
Updated: 2020-03-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:08:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23119774
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxxbuffyxxx/pseuds/xxxbuffyxxx
Relationships: Bill Denbrough/Mike Hanlon/Ben Hanscom/Eddie Kaspbrak/Beverly Marsh/Richie Tozier/Stanley Uris
Series: The Death of the Losers Club [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/949044
Kudos: 5





	Mike Hanlon

Mike wasn't having a very good week to be honest. 

Firstly: shearing sheep was a boring and painful task, especially considering he lived in Derry, and everything seemed to be harder even after defeating a demon. The sheep weren't exactly cooperative, and he couldn't count the number of times a sheep ‘accidentally’ kicked him in the balls, or ‘just happened to’ step on his feet, and he swore that he even saw one wink at him while letting his grandad sheer it without even bleating. 

Naked little shits. 

Then everyone had found out about Stan’s health issues, Mike wouldn't call them anything else. And then, the icing on the fucking cake, Ben had run off, and they had to console Stan’s fear of him leaving him, and no one could confisently say that he wouldn't, because he wasn't here!

Cherry on the icing had been Stan, Bill, Richie and Eddie telling them about IT being back. Of course IT was because, them? Having a break? Don't make me laugh. 

Mike stayed afterwards. He didn't know why. Maybe it was him hoping that Ben would come back, maybe it was to calm himself down, maybe he was just tired of everything and couldn't move yet. 

Maybe he  _ did  _ have a death wish, just like Eddie and Bev always joked about. 

Whatever, it didn’t really matter. Mike was just sitting there, feeling around the gun in his hand. Before he had barely been able to aim it at a living thing, and now he had killed with it more times than he could count. Was that irony? Was it ironic that he couldn't go anywhere without it now? 

Yeah, that seemed like the universe trying to fuck with him. 

After a few minutes he realised that yeah, staying outside by himself right after being told that a murderous psycho-clown that they had thought dead was actually alive did sound like a death wish. 

Was Mike going insane?

No. his thoughts were calm. They made sense, he couldn't be inside his house right now, not when he barely felt safe there at the best of times. Plus, there were so many machines in that house, and Mike could be done in by any of them. No, if anything he was safer here, out in the open, where he could have a clear shot of that monster’s head and shoot his brains out… did the thing even have any brains? 

Before he could answer that question there was a loud squawk and a pitch black raven fluttered down at Mike’s feet. Not taking any chances, the boy yelped in surprise and fear and leveled the gun, shooting the bird right in the head, hands only slightly shaking. The bird’s head practically exploded and splattered all over the top of the cliff. Mike swore quietly and stood, going to his bag to get something to clean this up with. 

He was being paranoid. He had just taken an innocent life because he was scared, and yeah, his fear was justified, but no, he couldn't let it overtake him right now. He had to be the strong one here. His lovers, as strong as they were, always saw him as a pillar, they all said so. Bill was the brave one, but Mike was the stable one. 

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In for four, out for six. 

When his eyes opened again he noticed that the pool of blood beneath the most-of-a-corpse was now slowly moving towards the cliff. Damn, would that stain the cliff? That would look dodgy. He didn't notice the fact that a bird would never have been able to hold that much blood. 

He also didn't notice the quiet giggling coming from the bottom of the cliff. 

No, instead he started cleaning the blood up. He got a bag to put the body in, but the raven was heavy. Way too heavy. 

Something was wrong. 

Mike grabbed his gun, only to realise that he couldn't find it in its holster. He was about to panic before seeing it where he had left it on the rock he was sitting on, and picked it up, his grip on it tighter than before. 

Ok, so IT was here. IT was here right now and he was alone and he had a gun, which did have bullets, he had checked, wait, it didn't have one in it right now. 

Clean the blood. 

Attempt to lift the bird. 

Fail. 

Think about running. 

That wouldn't help. 

Think about screaming. 

No one would come in time. 

Put a bullet in the gun. 

Notice he’s crying. 

Stop crying. 

Fail. 

No, he had to calm down. Crying would put off his aim. 

Just breathe. 

In for four. 

Out for six. 

The blood is dripping down the cliff.

In for four. 

Out for six. 

There is laughing coming from the water down below. 

In for four. 

The laughter is coming closer. 

Hold your breath. 

A mop of red hair appears from the cliff. 

Out for six. 

Shoot. 

BANG!

The laughing stops, the hair and white forehead disappear and there’s a splash from below. 

Mike continues his breathing, because he didn't want to check if the clown was dead. He couldn't be, Mike was on his own, he wasn't powerful against him. He looked down at the raven and picked it up with ease. He sighed, looking back at the cliff face and shaking his head. He would deal with this first. 

He picked up the main body and gently placed it in the bag, whispering an apology to it. He heard a whisper in response but took no notice. Pennywise would make himself known in time, until then Mike would continue to wipe away the blood, which had seemed to have receded so that it was only in a small puddle. It was manageable. 

It was also suspicious. What was the monster planning?

Did Pennywise plan? He didn't seem like the type. 

Maybe Mike did have a death wish, because even after all of that, his heart wasn't beating that fast. His breathing had evened out. 

He also didn't want to go home. 

Mike made a kind of game of trying to get pebbles into an empty can of beans that Richie had eaten earlier (and had then proceeded to stink up the quarry for hours after). It wasn't that fun, but it passed the time. Plus, he was good at it, which was always a bonus. 

He also didn't need to deal with his grandfather if he was dead. 

Ok, major death wish. 

It's not like it would be that bad for anyone. He was forgettable, everyone had crushes on each other before him, and while he knew that that didn't make him less loved, it didn’t make a difference. 

Wait, was this him or Pennywise?

_ “Get a bullet in the gun, Michael.” _

He did. 

There was a scrambling from the cliff, and he levelled the gun again, pointing it in the same place as last time. Just kill the clown. It doesn't matter if you’re scared of IT, because it had hurt Stanley, and before that it had hurt Ben and Bev and Georgie. 

There was red hair and a white forehead and Mike shot. 

BANG!

There was a pain in his side and he screamed, collapsing. 

He looked down to see a bullet wound. “Thanks for the bullet,” he heard the clown whisper, and just as his vision was fading he saw the slouched form of Pennywise leaning over him, licking his lips greedily. 

  
  



End file.
